Hold Fast
by LuipaardJack
Summary: Hold on tight Togusa, because you're in for a wild ride. And for God's sake, don't throw up on anybody. Chapter Six is up!
1. Ordinary Day

**This story isn't finished; but I've been working on it for two weeks, dammit!**

**Plez, review!**

**Edit 9/19/06: I am so stupid. I put in numbers for footnotes, but never put the actual NOTES down. :headdesk: Thanks _Samurai101_****!  
**

---------------------

_And I say way-hey-hey, it's just an ordinary day_

_And it's all your state of mind_

_At the end of the day, you've still got to say,_

"_It's all right."_

"_Ordinary Day" -- Great Big Sea_

---------------------

It's normal for Togusa's alarm clock to go off at five, normal for him to switch it off quickly so that Meijiro isn't woken by it. (She always is, actually, but he doesn't know that.) It's normal for him to slip out of bed as quietly as he can and shower in the dark. This, on average, takes half-an-hour because it takes such a long time for the hot water to jerk him out of his sleep-laced stupor.

After his shower, Togusa creeps back into the bedroom, (his eyesight in the dark is uncannily sharp) and gets dressed in his leathers. Then he looks at his wife and experiences a brief flash of guilt because he is leaving her to deal with two hyperactive children at ungodly hours of the morning, thinking nothing of his own schedule. Then, heaving a despairing sigh, he goes and makes himself breakfast in the kitchen: something simple. Toast, more often than not. Maybe he adds some cheese to it. Drinks water. A very Western, very American-style breakfast; if Batou knew, he would die from shame.

But it's always something simple, nothing fancy. Togusa hates pretentiousness, in himself and others.

Once he finishes his breakfast and washes his dishes, it's six o' clock, and he makes his daughter's lunch for school that day.

He feels that it's the least he can do; and he knows that Mei is grateful for even one less burden.

So he makes Shiori's lunch, puts it into her crimson bento box, and then places that into the refrigerator so that it can chill and keep fresh. And then he grabs the keys to his bike, hefts the brown messenger bag holding his street clothes and leaves to maneuver through the morning traffic jams.

And that is how Nobuyoshi Togusa begins his day.

---------------------

Togusa didn't know he was sick when he woke up that morning.

True, he had a headache and his stomach kept on pointedly insisting that at some point in the night he had swallowed a lint-covered candle that had also been dipped in castor oil, but the truth was he felt like that plenty of mornings, so he shrugged it off.

That was his first mistake.

As the hot water pounded his back from the shower-head, his headache did not disappear. Once again however, this had happened enough times that he didn't pay much attention.

Mistake number two.

It was when he was pulling on his pants that he experienced the first wave of dizziness. It was a light spell, compared to what he was used to. Nonetheless, he let out a startled gasp and had to grab the edge of the dresser to steady himself.

Not feeling as certain of himself as he had before, Togusa ran a hand through his hair. Dizziness in the morning usually came after sitting up, and only because he had done it too quickly and forced all the blood to fall from his head.

He probably would have pondered the matter further if Meijiro hadn't shifted in the bed to his left. His desire not to wake his wife, coupled with his hunger, drove the incident from his mind. Mistake the Third.

But the matter came up again as he walked to his bike. His helmet hanging precariously from his first three fingers, he swiftly straddled the motorcycle, and zipped up his jacket. Then he paused.

Breakfast had helped his stomach but he couldn't help feeling slightly nauseous. Was he sick?

Recalling his earlier dizzy spell, he experimentally shook his head from side to side.

No reaction. Hmm.

He shrugged. Even if he was ill, it couldn't be too bad. He'd worked through sickness before and he wasn't the worse for it.

...Although he had to admit, that time with the 104-degree fever had been a mistake.

With a yawn, he checked to make sure the seat compartment was secure, pulled on his helmet, and turned on the ignition.

---------------------

The drive to work had been nothing if not eventful.

Either he really was out of sorts (as well as completely out of it) or all the idiots of the world had decided to congregate on the freeway that day. Togusa had nearly been hit six times, and he was still trembling a little from his last encounter -- a renegade eighteen-wheeler.

To top it off, his headache had gotten worse, and the lint-covered candle in his stomach had transformed into something he'd much rather not try to describe. The pressure on his sinuses was also incredible.

_Suck it up,_ he told himself crossly as he pulled on his blue jacket. _Stop_ _being such a brat. You've gone through worse._

_Not very much,_ the sulky corner of his mind replied.

Out in the hall, he leaned his back against the wall and stared at the floor, frowning. Just what it was he was thinking about he didn't really know for sure, except it was very important and he had to figure it out but he couldn't really figure it out if he didn't know what it was and if he didn't know what it was then he couldn't figure out it out and...

"What _are_ you doing?" he asked irritably.

Batou dropped the various locks of Togusa's hair that he had been playing with. "Waiting to see how long it took until you noticed. Five minutes, too."

"It's nice to know that you're timing."

"It's that inner clock." Batou studied him, frowning. "You okay? You're looking a bit grey."

Togusa was about to reassure his friend that he was fine when he suddenly felt an urge to share what had happened to him that morning. "I almost got hit by an eighteen-wheeler on my way here."

"I've been telling you and telling you that thing is a deathtrap," Batou insisted. "_Now_ will you get rid of it?"

The detective grinned. "No way. Besides, it's not like it hasn't happened to me before."

The two continued to argue as they went to join the rest of the team, and Togusa forgot all about his illness.

---------------------

Unfortunately, it did not forget about him. Togusa did in fact have a fever (thought it would be a while before he realized this fact.); it went up and down as the day progressed, leaving him groggy and ill-tempered by turns.

It was around five in the afternoon that things finally came to a head.

The florescent lighting was giving him a headache, so Togusa had retreated into his workroom and turned off all the lights. Sitting at the desk, he could feel a strange rolling sensation underneath his eyeballs and had the feeling that it wouldn't be a very good idea to stand up right then. _I'm not well,_ he realized belatedly.

"_Togusa?"_

The transmission caught him by surprise but the only physical sign he gave was a vague blink.

"_M...Major?"_

She continued, sounding slightly exasperated. _"Togusa, you said you were going to complete your combat examination today."_

"_I did?"_

"_Yes, you did. C'mon, you have to get down here."_

"_R-right..."_

Togusa groaned softly and put his head in his hands. He couldn't even drag himself out of this _chair_, for God's sake. How was he supposed to pass a combat exam?

With a _thunk_ the detective let his forehead drop a short distance to the desktop. He shivered. Was it just him, or had the temperature suddenly dropped?

This notice only made things worse for him. As Togusa pulled his jacket more tightly around himself, he became even colder. Soon, his teeth were chattering madly as the temperature around him seemed to fall into sub-zero levels.

And something even odder was happening. His mouth had gone completely dry. Not a spot of saliva to be found.

_Dehydrated,_ he thought faintly. And cold. He was so cold, oh God...

Togusa slipped out of the chair and hit the ground, hard. Twitching, teeth chattering, he curled himself up into a fetal ball. He needed water. Desperately.

He tried to brace himself to get up and get a cup of the liquid. His legs refused to obey his command.

He imagined getting a drink of water. He imagined downing aspirin for the fever he now knew he had. He imagined wrapping himself in a heavy blanket, and finally banishing his chill.

Togusa imagined doing a lot of things to care for himself, but in reality did nothing. His body wouldn't stretch itself out, no matter how cruelly he threatened it.

And at some point during his mental ramblings, he fell asleep.

---------------------

Batou found him like that an hour later.

Worried, the cyborg shook the natural man's shoulder. "Togusa? Buddy?"

No response.

Batou checked his pulse; fine. Bit sluggish, but still steady. What was the matter with him?

Sweat had soaked into Togusa's clothing and hair, and his pores didn't seem to understand that enough was enough. His body, still locked in a tight ball, shook uncontrollably.

Frowning, Batou slapped his friend's cheek gently. "Togusa. Hey, Togusa, wake up!"

Togusa made a noise extraordinarily similar to a whimper.

"Togusa?"

But no matter how much Batou poked and prodded, he couldn't get Togusa to wake or uncurl. He felt Togusa's sweaty cheek. He couldn't get an exact temperature, but he could tell that Togusa's was far above the norm.

"Crap," Batou muttered. _"Major, I think we've got a problem."_

"_You didn't find Togusa?"_

"_I found him, alright. But he's completely out of it; he's got a fever and he's shaking all over. I can't wake him up."_

She was silent briefly. Then she said, _"Should we take him to the hospital?"_

"_He wouldn't thank us for it. You know how much he hates those places."_

This was true. The only reason Togusa hadn't tried to escape when he had been injured at the Sunflower Society was because he had been completely zonked on morphine.

Batou's inner-debating was put to an end when Togusa called his name faintly.

"Geez," he said, bending over the detective. "There are better ways to get attention you know."

Togusa's teeth were chattering. "Cold," he muttered.

"Can't imagine why, your temperature has sky-rocketed." Batou shook his legs gently. "C'mon, you've gotta open up. I can't carry you like this."

"C-can't..."

If Togusa had been planning on saying anything else it was lost to his spasms. Batou sighed and managed to peel the man's arms apart. Hooking the limbs around his neck, he was also able to worm an arm between Togusa's calves and thighs. Lifting the man's light-as-air self, Batou was struck as Togusa buried his face into the cyborg's neck.

_He really _is_ sick. _

Because Togusa very rarely initiated physical contact.


	2. Unwell

**All of you thank you so much for your reviews! No, this is NOT a Batou/Togusa story...**

**Also, I decided it would be neat if I started putting in song lyrics at the beginning of all my stories. I don't know if someone actually reads them, but it makes me happy.**

**6/26/2007: Have made some minor changes to the text, and added a new footnote. Nothing major.**

* * *

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_Hold on  
I'm feeling like I'm headed for a  
Breakdown  
I don't know why  
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell  
I know, right now you can't tell  
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see  
A different side of me_

_-- "Unwell" Matchbox 20_

---------------------

Taking his cue from the workroom, Batou deposited Togusa on one of the briefing room couches before dimming the lights heavily. And then he began to feel very much out of his depth. As Togusa had once pointed out, Batou did not suffer from physical illness. What did he know about caring for a sick adult?

_No time like the present to learn, I guess._

He bent over Togusa and pulled the sweaty strands of hair off the man's face. When he spoke, he kept his voice low, something he figured Togusa would appreciate. "Hey. Do you take anything for this? Motrin, Advil?"

"Anything," Togusa whispered.

"Okay. I'll see what I can get you. Don't go anywhere, alright?"

Togusa laughed hoarsely. "That I can promise."

---------------------

The darkened room was what caught Motoko's attention.

She had just been on her way to track down Batou and Togusa when she passed by. Frowning, she poked her head in, and heard labored breathing.

A cold flare of alarm went through her. "Togusa?"

He didn't reply.

Motoko walked quickly down the steps leading to the couches and bent over him. "Togusa?"

This roused him. He opened his eyes blearily. "Major...But I thought..."

"Never mind that." She felt his forehead. Heat blasted against her palm. "Togusa, I think we should get you to a doctor."

Predictably, he flinched. "No --"

"You need medicine at least." Motoko did her best to sound brisk and efficient, and she felt that she pulled it off well. But she was also feeling uneasy.

Never before had she seen Togusa in such a state. He always did his best not to let his teammates perceive physical weakness; preferred to deal with any mental trauma on his own. But now he was weaker than a newborn kitten, shaking madly, and had a blazing fever. She doubted that he would be able to support himself on his own legs.

"B-Batou is getting..." He trailed off with a mutter.

"He's certainly taking his time about it," she muttered crossly.

Strange. She felt uneasy but also protective. Motoko frowned. Was it possible that some kind of..._maternal instinct_ had been activated?

_Yeah, right. And maybe pigs really _do_ fly. _

_...And that time with the Precinct Riot Reapers doesn't count. _

She shook her head. "Do you want me to get you anything, while you wait?"

"Blanket...would be nice..." As if to make the point, he went into another bout of violent shivering.

"I'll see what I can find."

Did they _have_ blankets?

Motoko practically flew out the door.

---------------------

Batou was getting plenty of mileage out of his cell phone. "Meijiro, I'm a city man. I don't know what 'drinking downstream from the herd' means." An interesting truth about Batou was that he was the only member of Section 9 comfortable enough with Togusa's family to use his wife's given name. The rest simply referred to her as "Mrs. Nobuyoshi."

As she cleared her throat to explain, Batou was suddenly plagued with images of horses relieving themselves in pure mountain tributaries. "Oh. Wait. Never mind, I get it."

"_You're catching on."_

Batou's grimace could have passed as a smile. "Alright, so, keep him covered, keep him isolated. What else?"

"_Take his temperature every hour or so, and let him drink plenty of water. His body is raising his temperature to burn out the infection, and it's dehydrating him."_

"See, that's what I don't get." He examined the ear thermometer that Meijiro had recommended, on the grounds that Togusa had a tendency to bite when confronted with them, as life bustled around him in the store. "He hasn't been out on assignment and he hasn't been hurt recently -- not that I know of. What could he possibly be infected with?"

"_Shiori, probably."_

"Your daughter?"

"_A week ago, she was ill. He probably picked up something when he helped me take care of her, and it's been incubating all this time."_

So that was why he had taken that week off. "It's been in him for that long?"

"_Bacteria and viruses can both survive for a long while."_

"I'll take your word on that."

"_You'd better. And don't let him come home; I don't want him infecting the children. He's very good at being pitiful, so you'll have to be firm."_

---------------------

When Batou came back from the store armed with the ear thermometer and various pills, he found Togusa covered with three blankets, trying to hack his lungs out.

The coughs were awful; they seemed to tear out of the back of his throat as his eyes streamed and his lower body was overtaken by spasms. Alarmed, the cyborg ran down to him and set his hands on the natural man's back to stabilize him.

When the fit was over, Togusa supported himself on one elbow. He seemed to have stopped shivering, though his body still radiated much more heat that usual. But he was also more coherent, and when he recognized Batou, he gave a tired smile. _"What, you again?"_

"I think so. Which make two of us." Batou held up the plastic bag he'd looped around his wrist. "A thermometer and your pills. Junkie."

"_Ha, ha. I don't suppose you remembered water?"_

"Easily found. Who brought you the blankets?"

Togusa fell on his back and closed his eyes. _"Major. She wants to take me to a...doctor." _At the last word, he grimaced.

"We probably should," Batou replied as he opened the thermometer's boxed packaging (batteries included, thank God.). "And don't think that biting off my fingers will help you relieve stress."

"_You're not sticking that thing in me!" _It seemed that Togusa had a phobia for anything even remotely related to medicine. Batou couldn't really blame him, but it was pretty damn annoying.

"I bought a rectal thermometer; be glad I'm not using it." He was lying of course, but it was worth it to see his best friend's eyes widen like that.

Togusa curled up a little. _"I'll be good."_

"Whatever. Just hold still." The thermometer beeped as it switched on, and then Batou pushed it into Togusa's ear. "...How long does this thing take?"

"_Ten seconds, on average. Be patient."_

"Bah..." There was more beeping from the instrument. Batou lifted it and did a double-take at the reading. "_105.8 degrees? _That can't be safe!"

"_I've been there before..."_

Togusa hadn't meant to sound so blasé. Really, he hadn't.

"You shouldn't be taking it like that! You should go to a doctor!"

"_Like hell! They're all nothing but quacks with stethoscopes!" _He crossed his arms and scowled._ "__All they see when they look at me is a pink pincushion in boxer shorts."_

"You wear boxer shorts?"(1)

Batou was promptly given The Look -- or at least, the watered down version. "Sorry."

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**(1)C'mon, you know you've always wanted to ask him: boxers, or briefs?****Top of Form**

Bottom of Form


	3. Chasing Cars

**You know what everyone has said in their reviews? **

"**Poor Togusa!"**

**It warms my heart to see so much support for him out there. ;-) Keep reading, folks!**

**Thanks to _lithiumxflower_, _candidus-lupus-full Moon_, _qirien_ (READ that fic, woman!), _Anibee_ and _Kelpietree_!**

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_If I lay here,_

_If I just lay here,_

_Would you lie with me and just forget the world?_

_Forget what we're told,_

_Before we get too old._

_Show me a garden that's bursting into life._

_-- "Chasing Cars" Snow Patrol_

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Pazu was being painfully reminded that he knew nothing about caring for sick people.

It was now midnight, and Togusa had slipped back into a delirious state, fighting off fever dreams as he shivered violently. Sitting at his side, Pazu felt extremely impractical. It was all right for Batou and Major, who had made it a joint venture to swing by his house and pick up whatever necessities he required. They didn't have to sit here and wait for Saito to come back. They didn't have to nurse fingers that were almost certainly missing chunks of flesh after getting too close to Togusa while he was feeling _nippy_.

When it had become obvious that Togusa would be spending the night, Major had suggested that someone go by his place to pick anything he might need. Since she didn't feel comfortable going by herself, she had dragged Batou along with her.

This was just fine. This wasn't what bothered Pazu. Heck, he hadn't even minded when the two cyborgs had gathered the rest of the team, and made them all swear that they would take care of Togusa and not leave him unattended. It had been a slightly inane oath; they would always take care of Togusa, no matter what.(1)

But what _did_ bother Pazu was that not only had Togusa bitten him, Saito (the only one who could really be of use in this situation) had gone and left him. God knew where Boma and Ishikawa had run off to.

Bastards. What happened to 'no man left behind?'

---------------------

"He got _worse_?"

"Not...worse, exactly. More like he's backsliding."

Meijiro sighed and toed the small blue duffel to Major. "There you go." She hesitated. "I'm...I don't want to seem too forward."

Sensing an imminent _faux pas_ under the guise of a helpful suggestion, Motoko braced herself. True, Meijiro was a registered nurse, but it had been years since her certification expired.

"It's just...I know you want to take him to a doctor. And of course, he won't go. But he needs to be checked out by someone if he's deteriorated this quickly."

"We can always kidnap him," Batou said philosophically.

Meijiro's lips twitched. "I tried that. Once."

"Only once?"

"It didn't go well."

"He tried to _escape_?" Major was aghast.

Meijiro nodded. "Utter pandemonium. And that was just for getting blood drawn. But -- look, I know someone from Niihama hospital. I can get him to come and take a look at Togusa, if that's alright with you."

"That would be great, but Togusa despises the idea. If we try to force the issue then he might end up doing something drastic. Like jumping out a window."

"What floor is he on?" Meijiro asked.

"Fourth."

"He'd be fine then. He jumped off the top of a six-story building before, and he only twisted his ankle." The words came out before Meijiro could stop herself.

_Oh, crap. _

Pretending she didn't see their confused expressions, she pressed forward. "You're right, though. He won't like it. But let me give you Dr. Kiritani's phone number at least, and tell him that I said you could call."

---------------------

Togusa came awake slowly.

He tried to sit up first. A violent wave of dizziness forbade the idea. Wincing, he lay back down and tried to remember what had happened.

...Batou. Batou had found him passed out in his workroom. And after Batou had moved him to another room, Major had found some blankets. Something about a thermometer...

_Oh, yeah. I have a fever._

Togusa took a deep breath and grasped the back of the couch. With a combination of pulling with one arm and pushing with the other, he managed to sit up.

This minimum effort left the room wobbling. He closed his eyes and concentrated on controlling the roiling in his stomach.

Once his nausea was under control another vague sensory image began knocking on his memory. There had been quiet voices around him not long ago. Had someone been there, or was he hallucinating again?

He opened his eyes and turned his head. Yes, there was a chair by the couch, but it was empty.

_Why isn't anyone here?_

He suddenly pressed a knuckle hard against his aching temple, scolding himself. Honestly, what was the matter with him? Was he really expecting his teammates to drop everything just because he had taken ill?

_Selfish,_ he told himself firmly, flinging back the blankets. Selfish and plain silly. There were certainly more important things going on than him...

He managed to stand up by himself. That was something. More careful maneuvering proved that he was also capable of walking.

At the door, he miserably reflected about just how cold he was. Where was his jacket?

_Suck it up,_ he thought fiercely. _Stop acting like such a brat!_

Luipaard, mercifully, seemed to have fallen into one of his hibernation periods. There was no one to make snide comments as Togusa struggled down the hall, squinting in the bright fluorescent lighting and leaning on the wall for support.

He visited the bathroom and came back feeling, if not better, different. Then he ambled in the direction of the elevator; he wanted to visit the kitchen.

The elevator seemed to be quite a bit colder than the rest of the building, he noticed miserably as he punched in the floor number. Then he backed into a corner. He closed his eyes and pressed the side of his head against the wall; his headache was getting steadily worse.

The elevator traveled swiftly. Togusa almost didn't hear the disgustingly cheerful _ding_ as the doors opened. He barely made it through, getting his left heel clipped as he went.

Rubbing his arms for warmth, he entered the kitchen. The wall-window gave an excellent view of the city, but he hardly spared it a glance.

Coffee. That was what he needed.

---------------------

Saito rapped on the doorframe to let Togusa know he was coming (provided the man was conscious) before entering the room.

He had only taken two steps before he realized that its previous occupant was no longer there.

Muttering a sulfurous oath, he accessed the mainframe and pulled Togusa's locator. _Good, he hasn't gone far. Dumbass._

---------------------

Togusa crouched down and pressed his forehead against his knees, wrapping his arms in a self-hug. The scent of the coffee had sent his stomach to churning. He felt his abdomen jerk.

_No. Don't throw up. Don't throw up. _

_Whatever you do, don't throw up._

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**(1) All together now: "Awww."**


	4. In Sickness And In Health

**To all who have been so patiently waiting: thank you, especially Anibee, Kitomi, Caddris, Samurai101, and Haunted Obsidian.**

**On with the fic, review, and I don't own these characters. **

**Just thought I'd throw that little disclaimer in there. **

---------------------

"_Sickness shows us what we are."_

_-- Latin proverb_

---------------------

"When I find him," Saito muttered as he continued his sojourn to the kitchen. "I'm going to take his head and --" He made a violent motion in midair.

Saito thought of Togusa as a catastrophically precocious younger sibling. It made things easier to deal with in the long run and he was used to it. Thus, he had decided that as the person in Section 9 who had had dealings with such creatures, he was the one who would look after the detective.

When, of course, Togusa wasn't wandering off, getting shot whilst under cover, and being an all around twit.

The sniper was so involved in his mental complaints that he almost walked past the kitchen door. The sounds of Togusa regurgitating snapped him back.

Saito hurried back through the door and discovered the man hanging over the sink, heaving violently.

He pulled Togusa's hair back with one hand and laid the other between the detective's shoulder-blades. Togusa made a gurgling noise before vomiting the final remains of his previous meal.

"That's it," Saito said encouragingly. "Get it all out."

Togusa did not reply. He dry-heaved twice instead before sliding to the ground and pressing his face against the cabinet door.

Instead of saying anything, Saito ran water from the tap.

Closing his eyes, Togusa listened as the other man opened the cabinet above the sink and removed something; as the coffee maker gurgled away; and his own stomach, now empty, rumbled discontentedly.

Saito sat down next to him and pressed something into his hands.

It was a cup. Togusa drank from it; plain water.

"I should kill you," Saito said.

"Probably." His voice was so rough. "But then we'd never get the blood out of the carpet."

"Idiot." Saito grasped Togusa's arm and hauled him to his feet. "C'mon. You're going back to sleep."

Too tired to argue, Togusa simply set the cup down on the counter and allowed himself to be dragged away.

---------------------

Motoko's face had gone completely flat as Batou relayed Saito's amused report of his activities. Then she sighed and returning her gaze to the road, said "Batou, when Togusa is feeling better, thrash him."

---------------------

As the leader of Section 9, it was Aramaki Daisuke's job to make sure his subordinates were, if not happy, content. This was especially important in their dangerous line of work, since if any of them happened to be irritated about something, they had many options to choose from to express this. If any of them happened to be _angry_, then...

Aramaki sometimes wondered if he was the only one who had actually thought of the destruction Togusa could have caused if they hadn't gotten to him sooner.

Speaking of.

He tapped his pen against his desk.

Togusa was ill. He also refused to see a doctor, and would only take the most general of medications. Something had to be done.

Aramaki just wasn't convinced that he ought to be the one to do it.

The events surrounding the beginning of the year 2031 were not a source of great pride for the man. He had allowed the opinions of his team to influence him into taking their findings straight to the Prime Minister. That hadn't been part of his original plan; discussion with Togusa had produced the idea of simply giving the information to the Niihama Police Department and letting them take it from there.

But the rest of Section 9 had protested. He had listened, and the results had been nothing short of catastrophic. Forced to come up with a plan to protect their most vulnerable member, he had done his best to make sure Togusa remained as unharmed as possible. Then, there had been the long months of silence where he had worked, and waited, and hoped. Eventually they had gathered back together.

Except for Togusa.

He had never believed their story about police surveillance interfering with their ability to communicate, and Aramaki couldn't blame him. Ishikawa had come up with it right on the spot; in another show of arrogance, no one had thought that Togusa would ask questions and they hadn't crafted a believable explanation for their absence. The result was a conflicted team, with a confused Togusa on one side and a tense group of cyborgs on the other.

Stupidity. Stupidity and blind arrogance, with nothing to show for their subterfuge.

The point was, Togusa wasn't going to accept any help. He had been unfailingly polite and courteous every time Aramaki saw him, and nothing else.

All the same, something had to be done.

"_Major,"_ he said. "_Come see me as soon as you have Togusa settled."_

---------------------

By the time Motoko and Batou arrived, Togusa was already asleep.

Motoko stowed his duffel bag under the table and then turned back to his limp frame.

Feeling oddly parental, she straightened out his blanket until it wasn't bunched around his shoulders. Then she brushed his damp hair out his face, and pressed her palm against his forehead.

His chills had dropped off into a minute trembling, but his skin was still too hot.

_And he thinks he's too cold,_ she thought angrily.

Underneath her hand, the frown lines that permeated Togusa's forehead deepened and he began coughing violently. Motoko winced and steadied him as best she could.

The fit subsided quickly, but did nothing for her peace of mind. And, of course, she had to go see the Chief.

"_Someone get down here, and watch Togusa," _she ordered. "_I have to talk to the Chief, and I don't want him along."_

Muttered affirmatives answered her. She gave Togusa one final look and then headed for the door.

The note bearing Dr. Kiritani's phone number was burning a hole in her pocket. Once this little audience was over, she was going to make the phone call.

---------------------

The rap on the door was clipped and sounded impatient. Telling Major to come in, Aramaki picked an info pad(1) and activated it.

Motoko sat down in the chair closest to his desk, looking supremely annoyed. "Yes?"

Instead of giving a verbal reply, he handed her the pad.

She flicked through it. Her mouth tightened and she said, "Togusa isn't getting involved with this one. He's not well enough."

"I hope he doesn't have to."

"His wife gave me a doctor to call."

"I suggest you do so."

---------------------

Akio Kiritani had been Meijiro's OB/GYN. He no longer practiced in either field, but instead favored diagnostic medicine.

His long, straight red hair was almost always pulled back in a ponytail, and his green eyes were almost always half-shut, giving the impression that he hadn't had enough sleep. He also wore three unprofessional blue studs in his left ear, and a single silver ring in the top of his right. Tall, and very attractive, men usually hated him and women usually loved him. He was in his mid-thirties, but looked like he was only twenty-five.

Togusa did not necessarily get along with Akio. The first time they met, Togusa had made some passing comments about medical practice that Akio had not appreciated; things had gone downhill from there.

It didn't really help that Akio was cold, brusque, had no bedside manner whatsoever, and that his initial opinion of Togusa and his background had not been complementary.

This relationship had not endured, of course. Akio would, now and again, give Togusa a smile, while his counterpart treated him with an amused disdain.

Motoko didn't know any of this when she called the phone number and explained the situation.

It was probably better that way.

---------------------

**(1) This is one of those little computer things you always see floating around. Togusa used one to take inventory in RE-VIEW and you also see a lot of them in AG20.**


	5. Doctor in the House

**Thanks to: Kelpietree, Alaskantiger, bansheeblue13, Anibee, New Moon Werewolf, Your Name Here, Haunted Obsidian, Caddris -- as well as qirien! **

**qirien's back, everyone! Rejoice! **

**You know, when this story first started, I had no idea where it was going to go. I thought it would just fizzle out... But no! It lives on!**

**Also, I cut it off there because I was sick of staring at it and not knowing what else to do. Someone, give me inspiration!**

* * *

"_Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6_

_Well I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh_

_Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom_

_You see it's too much to ask for and I am not the doctor"_

_Alanis Morissette - Not The Doctor_

---------------------

Akio arrived in fairly short order. For once, he wasn't perfect; his red hair was rumpled, his single earring was crooked, and his t-shirt was on backwards. It was also quite possible that he was in fact as tired as he looked. With Akio however, it was impossible to tell.

"Where is he?" he asked bluntly after the introductions had gone around.

Batou scowled at him. No effect. Hmm.

Smoothly, Motoko led him to the elevator. Batou stayed behind as a rearguard; Togusa's medical paranoia must have been affecting him.

The three were silent during the trip. The doctor seemed to doze on the way up (a short time; five minutes) and thus didn't see the curious looks the two cyborgs gave the black leather snap-bag he held at his side. It seemed to be the only thing about him that was remotely characteristic of his profession.

"_Stop staring at him,"_ Motoko ordered silently.

"_You first, Major."_

Her eyes narrowed, but before any reply could be made, there was a cheerful 'ding!' and the doors opened.

Akio opened his eyes, yawned, and went through the frame.

Batou and Motoko chased after him, and managed to steer him into the briefing room.

Togusa was wheezing as he sucked down air. He burst into an imitation of a barking seal, harsh coughing ripping out of his throat. Then he caught something in his hand with a wet _splat_; he looked, scowled, and tossed it into the trash can.

He glanced at Akio and glared at Major.

"What is he doing here?" He spoke aloud -- presumably for the doctor's benefit. However, his faint, hoarse voice detracted from any threat he might have been trying to imply.

"Fixing you," Batou said bluntly.

Togusa tried to pick up a pillow -- presumably to throw at his best friend -- but the effort sent him off into another long fit of coughing. Akio used the glare-free time to go to his side.

As Togusa doubled over, shoulders shaking, Akio sat on the side of the couch and popped open his bag. He withdrew a stethoscope and hooked it around his neck. He waited until Togusa's fit was over before asking, "When did you first notice something unusual was happening?"

The natural man considered grudgingly. He cleared his throat twice before hoarsely answering, "This morning. Got dizzy. Had trouble driving here..."

"That is something I _don't_ consider unusual -- considering your general lack of coordination."

Togusa was about to say something when Akio whipped out a penlight and shined it in his eyes. Togusa jerked back and flung up a hand to protect his eyesight.

"Reflexes are down," Akio noted.

"What are you doing?" Major asked suspiciously.

Both men looked startled. They seemed to have forgotten the two cyborgs existed.

"It's commonly called a general examination," Akio said in the patient voice he used with children and the mentally disturbed. "I'm using it to diagnose your friend, so that he doesn't drown in his own mucus and sputum."

Togusa ducked his head so Major wouldn't see his grin.

"Also," Akio continued, ignoring the steadily erupting Batou. "I will have to request that you leave the room. If you feel that you must guard Togusa's virtue --" (Togusa inserted a snigger here.) "-- then I suggest you hack the cameras and keep an eye on me."

"Hack the --!"

"You _were_ planning on that, weren't you? Isn't that how secret government operations work?"

Major gaped at him.

"How the hell did you know?" Batou demanded.

"Be reasonable, my large and...somewhat challenged friend." Togusa bit his wrist to keep from laughing out loud, as Batou bristled. "A child of seven would be able to see what's going on here. You're Section 9."

"Togusa told you," Batou replied stubbornly.

"If he did, then he must have hypnotized me to forget, because he very rarely does anything voluntarily. The first time we met he nearly put a knife through my neck."

"You deserved it," Togusa croaked.

"Don't interrupt. At any rate, my good sir, I know exactly who you are -- in a general sort of way -- and I know exactly what it is you're capable of. Ergo, I won't be surprised when your little band pretends not to be interested in what I'm doing. On that note, I will request once more that you leave -- and that you _not_ hack the cameras. Togusa deserves some privacy. I think you get your fill when you watch what he does with his wife."

Akio's patient began laughing. Then he began coughing.

Major gently dragged the spluttering Batou out of the room.

---------------------

Togusa got over the fit in time to here Akio say, "I can't see how you can stand them."

Unsure of his voice, Togusa raised his eyebrows instead.

"Those people. They aren't your usual sort." Akio extracted a tongue depressor and used it to look down Togusa's throat. The detective complied, but got his back by snapping his teeth down on the wood, breaking off the end.

Unperturbed, Akio instructed him to spit out the splinters. Then he asked for, and received, the ear thermometer.

"Why do you care?" Togusa asked, amusement plain in his voice.

"It's unusual -- even for _you_. Last time I checked, you had a towering contempt for any and all show-offs."

"They have redeeming qualities."

"I sincerely hope so." Carefully, the doctor probed Togusa's neck and both sides of his jaw line. He pulled his fingers away from the snapping jaws and began rubbing his hand against the metal disc of his stethoscope. Togusa sighed.

"Shut up, and deal with it."


	6. Fever Dreams

**So I finally got off my lazy ass and wrote the chapter as per the poll. Holy crap, it's the apocalypse!**

**12/17/07: I would like to add my thanks to everyone who reviewed in Chapter Five -- including SBB, Haunted Obsidian, DigitalGirl, Seldavia, quirien, and...LAURA!**

**You need to come out of your shell, Laura. C'mon, I don't bite. ;) ****  
**

* * *

_"Fever dreams can only haunt you_

_'Til the fever breaks_

_They can only haunt you_

_'Til the fever breaks_

_They can only haunt you_

_'Til the fever breaks_

_They can only haunt you beneath your skin"_

_-- "Fever Dreams" by Dashboard Confessional_

---------------------

"Mycoplasma pneumonia."

If Batou had eyes, he would be blinking. "The what now?"

Akio made an indelicate noise, and placed his black bag on the kitchen table. "More commonly known as 'walking pneumonia.' He has enlarged lymph nodes, and a slightly inflamed eardrum. His fever is a bit high for it, though."

"Are you sure?" Motoko demanded.

"Personally? Yes. But making a true diagnosis would be impossible without some testing."

"What kind of testing?"

"His lungs don't sound unusual, so to be absolutely certain I'd have to have some chest x-rays or a blood test." He opened up his bag, and brought out a small sterile container with something soggy on the inside. "Failing that however, an examination of his sputum does just fine."

As Batou made gagging noises over the thought, Pazu, nursing of a cup of coffee in the corner, asked, "What is this when it hits home?"

"Very mild, though Togusa probably won't think so. He's been healthy, so this should blow over in about a week."

"'Should?'"

"The coughing will likely linger for the rest of the month."

"That'll make him so happy," Saito murmured.

---------------------

_(thirty minutes before)_

"I want to go home."

Togusa's hoarse voice held none of its usual vigor; he appeared more sullen than determined, slumped in the couch as he was.

Akio felt sorrier for him than ever, but he continued relentlessly. "'Gold cats are worse than black,'" he quoted to his patient. "Remember? Do you really want to give your kids this?"

Togusa glared at him. "You said this was mild!"

"For an adult, yes. I don't want to risk your children, and neither do you. Anyway, it's not really for that long. Only six days."

"_Only six days?!"_

"Minimum."

"_Min--"_

Togusa began spluttering, and tried to get up at the same time. Akio raised up one finger and, with no particular effort, used it to push him back down.

"Minimum," he said.

---------------------

_(present)_

"How long until he's back in action?" Motoko asked.

"Making him do anything as strenuous as paperwork probably wouldn't be a good idea."

"What would happen if we suited him up and threw him into a combat situation?"

"He would die," Akio supplied immediately.

She stared at him violently. "You said this was mild!"

"As he is now, yes. But that doesn't mean he still isn't in bad shape. He's going to be extremely dizzy for next few days; that alone would probably be a death sentence for him, given the amount of energy and attention I imagine he would have to expend during a fire-fight." His gaze became slightly amused. "You don't really know that much about normal humans do you?"

Motoko worked her brain furiously for a snappy retort. Nothing was forthcoming. Damn.

"No duties for the rest of the week," Akio said. "Which brings me to my regretful goodbye; I need to drop the sample off at the hospital for it to be tested, and then once the results are in, it's off to bed for me. Especially since it is now two in the morning." He put the sputum sample back in his bag. "I can find my way out," he said when Pazu stood.

And then he left.

---------------------

"He said the only thing we were doing wrong was not giving Togusa enough water."

Major accepted this with thinning lips. "Anything else?"

Saito considered mentioning what else Akio had said -- and decided against it. He liked breathing as hobby, and being forced to stop would be distressing. "Ah -- no, Major. That was it."

The two stood outside the door to the briefing room, pretending not to be having a fight. Saito really couldn't understand what the problem was; Major had been twitchy and snarky ever since the doctor had left. The only thing he could think of that would cause such a thing was that nasty comment about humans, but he knew she wouldn't let something like that get to her.

It was with that in mind that he handed her the water bottle six-pack. Without a word, she took it from him and entered the briefing room.

Pausing for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the gloom, Motoko wondered if she ought to be here at all. Batou would be far better at this than she. She always had to force herself to make personal connections with people; and it showed. She was probably the last person Togusa needed right now. He was in no state to combat his prickly commander; she ought not to make him strain himself.

Prickly, ha ha. That was a polite way of putting it. "Ungrateful bitch" was an appellation given to Motoko frequently; one she earned often, she would admit.

Togusa was lying down, but restlessly. He shifted under his blankets -- trying to find a new position, or in the grips of some sort of nightmare. She went to his side and set the water bottles down on the table before taking her spot at the sofa cushions perpendicular to his head. The chair had been put away.

That was the problem with peace and quiet, she thought. It allowed for too much introspection.

---------------------

It used to be that it took up to five days for a culture to be stained and grown. Now, it only took three hours.

Akio silently blessed the old woman that had reduced the culture-test to that time. As he silently added the stain to the sample he had taken from Togusa, he was already thinking of the bench three feet behind and to the left of him. Once he put this little darling into the oven, he would be able to get out some quality naptime...

He slid the prepared culture into the incubator and retreated to the bench to curl up underneath his lab coat. Three glorious hours of sleep waited.

---------------------

_The sun had not yet risen. Instead, strange silver light lay over everything, leaving shadows in the alleys and around corners. The colors on the signs had been turned to pastels, pinks and reds and yellows dazzling his vision. _

_Not many people were up yet; a jogger passed him by as he slowly walked on the grass, taking in the long-missed views. He had wondered these streets for so long -- and then they had taken him away..._

_His stomach rumbled. He wished he hadn't had to leave his supplies behind; now he would have to scrounge, and if there was one good thing about the white place it was that there was food._

_The wind was blowing too, and it was cold to begin with. His clothes were too thin for this weather; another problem he would have to deal with. Silently using the curses he had learned from the elder children, he crouched behind a hedge located by the path. He didn't know where he was, or where he was going; he was probably going to freeze and starve a little; and he didn't have any money. Worse, he couldn't read the signs, written as they were in Japanese. _

_Why couldn't there be more English? He had learned English as easily as breathing, but kanji and hiragana defeated him still._

_Still on his haunches, he picked up a stick and began drawing in the dirt in front of himself. The eggs first, and then bacon. The only good breakfast he remembered having. _

_He wished he could have it now._

"_Hey!"_

_The voice made him freeze, muscles seizing, joints melding together crudely. Damn! They had found him; they were going to take him away again--_

_The man who had called out to him strode with impatient steps until his shadow loomed large._

"_Hey. Kid. What are you doing here?"_

_The child was only able to stare up at him dumbly. His mouth refused to work, as if his vocal cords had been cut. This didn't make sense --_

_The man scowled at him, making him shrink back. The man's eyes were strange. They reminded him of the tops you found on plastic water bottles -- white, opaque. Just like his hair. Why were there bottle tops in this man's face? Where were his real eyes?_

"_What -- can't talk? Fantastic, a dummy." He looked down at the dirt, the picture drawn there. "That what you had for breakfast this morning?"_

_The child shook his head frantically. The sheer fright this man generated inside him forbid communication, and also demanded it. Head-bobbing seemed the way to go._

_The man sighed. "Where are your parents?"_

_...Parents? What were 'parents'? _

"_They'll be looking for you, anyway. C'mon." Without really asking, the man picked him up and stepped over the hedge. With strong, precise strides, the man carried him down the sidewalk. "By the way," he said, "Why are do you have gold eyes?"_

* * *

**And it ends there. With a mystery. sobs Dammit, I wanted seven pages, not five!**


End file.
